


Novure

by orphan_account



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dark Elves, Multi, Thievery, Thieves Guild, Windhelm, i still dont know how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The story of my newest Skyrim OC, Novure and her ventures with the Thieves Guild.





	Novure

From her spot on the floor, she could hear the club begin to slowly fill. She'd come from Morrowind, maybe a few days prior to this moment. The owner of the New Gnisis Cornerclub in Windhelm had been generous enough to let her sleep on some furs in the back room; something about the dark elves in these parts needing to look out for one another. She'd simply nodded and continued eating the scraps he'd allowed her. Now, she knew it was time to take her leave before she overstayed her welcome. Still sitting on the floor, she packed what little belongings she'd carried with her from Ald Velothi. A waterskin, a bedroll, an extra pair of clothes. They fit in her pack well, leaving quite a bit of space.

She glanced around the corner, seeing Ambarys busy with customers at the bar. A couple of apples and chunks of meat found new homes in her bag before she fastened it to her back. She didn't know how well this club fared, and as she left she hoped her theft wouldn't be such a blow. Before she could open the door, Ambarys noticed her attempting to sneak out. 

"Hey now," he said, gathering empty mugs off of a vacant table. "You never even told me your name,"

She shrugged, picking at her gloves. "It's Novure," He smiled. 

"I won't keep you here any longer. Just know you're always welcome," She nodded her gratitude and exited into the bitter cold. 

A few days later, Novure was passing through Ivarstead. Empty-handed, she scoped out the interior of the inn. The man at the bar had greeted her when she entered, but now paid her no mind. As long as she kept her hood up and her head down, no one would deduce she wasn't a normal customer. One rather intoxicated patron of Vilemyr Inn looked like a simple enough target. Just as she walked past, she slipped a discreet hand into his pocket. As she suspected, he dealt with his coin rather loosely. She had no trouble transferring the currency from his pocket to her own and leaving the inn. 

Novure mounted the horse she'd stolen somewhere between Windhelm and here. Theft was a necessary evil she'd grown quite comfortable with long before she'd fled Morrowind. Slowing the horse to a trot, she squinted at the road sign. She didn’t particularly feel like going around the mountain to Whiterun, and going North again made her bones hurt just thinking about it. Riften seemed like her only choice at this point. 

 

She scoffed as she entered the city. How dare that guard try and get her money. Did she really look like she had any money to spare? There truly was no honor among thieves, at least in Riften. 

It was about midday, sunlight filtering in between the roofs of the taller buildings. The market was full of residents and travelers alike. She mingled easily with the crowd, spotting one man in nice looking clothing browsing a jewelry stand. She shuffled up behind him, slowly sliding a hand towards his pocket. In a flash of movement, his hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Novure gasped, attempting to wrench out of his grasp. His hold remained strong as he turned to look at her. He smiled easily, raising an eyebrow. 

“Now hold on there lass, wouldn’t want to cause a scene now would we?” Remaining frozen, she glanced quickly to her right and left, seeing at least 4 guards in the general vicinity. 

“Let me go,” she demanded.

He clucked his tongue. “I would, but that would mean I wouldn’t be able to make you an offer,” 

She glared at him, refusing to say anymore. He smirked, taking her silence as interest. 

“I’m part of a certain… organization that I believe you might be interested in,” 

 

That was two months ago. She’d been recruited into the Thieve’s Guild rather quickly. The man in the market, Brynjolf, had turned out to become somewhat of a mentor to her. He facilitated most of her work with the Guild, so as to make it easier on her. It was obvious she’d come from a life of hardship, and with the Guild’s dwindling numbers he wasn’t about to do anything to scare her off. Now, he was in the Ragged Flagon. Novure had left a week ago for a job in Windhelm. One key aspect of her work was her efficiency; in and out, simple and quick. Though she seemed hesitant at first to take the job, she gave no outright refusal and left without a word. Now Brynjolf was growing worried. It usually wouldn’t take her more than a couple days to complete a job, especially one not so far from Riften. 

Tipping back a mug of mead, he didn’t notice Vex pulling out the chair opposite of him. She cleared her throat and waited for him to give her his attention. 

“We can all tell how worried you are about the new recruit. Though I wouldn’t normally say it, it’s not like you’re busy doing much around here. Go find her, make sure she hasn’t fucked the job up,” She ordered, not leaving any room for protest. He blinked a few times, mulling over what Vex had said. He stood.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he muttered gruffly, ignoring Vex’s smirk. 

 

Windhelm was far too cold for his liking. His normal clothing wasn’t nearly warm enough to protect against the biting cold of Skyrim’s North. It just meant he had to pile on the layers, which wasn’t something someone who led a life of thievery was used to. He’d been there a day, unable to locate Novure. Currently, he was on his way back to Candlehearth Hall. He had just spoken with the owner of the New Gnisis Cornerclub, to see if maybe she’d been staying there. Of course, the owner knew nothing and didn’t take very kindly to a Nord like Brynjolf being in his club. 

He turned into an alleyway, close to his destination, when he saw a figure huddled against the wall. The scent was thick, sharp copper stinging his nose as he walked faster. Fearing the worst, he dropped down quickly by the figure. His suspicions were confirmed when he found Novure’s sharp features covered almost completely with her crimson blood.

Her breath came in short puffs, one arm cradled against her chest. There were tears mixing with the blood on her cheeks. 

“Lass,” he gasped, tilting her chin up to inspect her injuries. “What happened? Who did this to you?”

Her entire frame shook. “The job went wrong. I tried, Brynjolf I’m sorry. There were always guards and I had to wait. I don’t know what went wrong I just-” she was cut off by her own coughing fit. Brynjolf could see blood sprayed across her hand when she pulled it away. He quickly gathered her up in his arms, shielding her from the cold as she began to sob. 

“It hurts- It hurts so bad.” 

 

He succeeded in glaring the innkeeper into submission when he carried Novure into Candlehearth Hall. No one asked any questions as he carried her back into his room. Laying her out on his bed, he pondered her armor but quickly decided he’d rather let her change on her own. Instead, he wet a washcloth in the basin and handed it over to her. She sat up shakily and wiped it across her face. 

“It was the Nord. The drunk one. He- They caught me. The market stall owners. They didn’t turn me in but he must have seen because- I’m sorry,” she finished, looking down at her hands.

He shook his head. “We should have known better than sending a dark elf to this city,” 

“But if I’d done the job-”

“That’s irrelevant at this point, lass,” he gestured with his hand as he sat down in a chair across the small room. “If there were more guards than usual that just means they’re aware we’re beginning to pick up the slack again. Not even the best thief could get anything done with no opportunity for discretion,” 

She shrugged, wincing at the sharp twinge in her chest. 

“Get some rest,” he said, dropping his hat onto his face. “You’re out of commission for now,”

 

It took a couple weeks for her to heal completely. And then two more months to get back into the swing of Thieve’s Guild life. Throughout the process, Brynjolf was there to provide a guiding hand. Now she approached him, having been away in the West working a few jobs in Markarth. He’d sent word for her.

“You called?” she said sarcastically, leaning against the chair next to him. 

He nodded, gesturing for her to sit. She did as he instructed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Mercer has a job,” he explained. “An important one, too,” 

Which made sense, she’d only done one or two crucial missions since she’d healed. They waited for a few minutes, catching up with each other until Mercer entered the Ragged Flagon. He crossed the tavern smoothly and sat down at their table. 

After exchanging stilted greetings, he explained the job. An old member of the Thieve’s Guild was back. They had been the one to murder the old leader, and now it seemed they were trying to take down the entire Guild. Novure nodded. 

“Where do I come into this?” 

“You’re going to come with me to track her down,” Mercer explained. “I’ve tracked her to the Snow Veil Sanctum,” 

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Something tells me it’s going to be very cold,”


End file.
